Gone Fishing.

Ben: "Carrie. Where are all those fly fishing magazines we used to get?"
Me: "I don't think we ever got a fishing magazine."
Ben: "Yes. We got it for a year or two. You didn't throw them out, did you?"
Me: Acting crushed at the the sheer nerve of my beloved - used to be non-fishing husband - accusing me of throwing something ... as special as a fishing magazine ... out! "If we still have them, they're in the cabinet upstairs."
Ben: Goes to retrieve the magazine and comes back downstairs a happy man. "See. This is proof that we got it."
Me: "And see. That's proof that I do care about those slimy little creatures and I can resist throwing things out! Barely!"
And so ... we have begun a new chapter of our lives. Family fishing outings. Ahh. The thought of the serene environment. Wind blowing through the trees. The quacking of ducks and the splish-splashing of our would be captives. Peaceful. Beautiful. Who wouldn't want to go?
And then. I remember who we're taking with us. Loud and louder. And that right above those peaceful reeds is a freeway. And the sun is blazing hot, even at 6pm. And that I forgot to bring water.
But no one seems to notice the noise ... or the heat ...
They just plop down and make themselves at home.
Spotting all sorts of wildlife ...
And trying very hard to make this little guy our new family pet.
Not caring that Mom's gourmet PB and J sandwiches got squished. Just enjoying the freedom to eat and wander.
And get back to what's really important.
Time with the crew. All of us.
And well ... back to eating.



And Ben said that he'll even get me my very own pole. And to think ... I've been worried all these years that he'd buy me a blender.